


A Royal Wedding Night

by FlameWolf



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 14:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13765851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlameWolf/pseuds/FlameWolf
Summary: What Arwen and Aragorn's wedding night might have been like.  Enjoy~





	A Royal Wedding Night

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anyone or anything from Lord of the Rings or Hobbit. This is just for fun and no profit will be made from it.
> 
> Author’s Note: A look at what Arwen and Aragorn wedding night might have been like. I will try to get the language as correct as I can but try to keep in mind I don’t normally stick to strictly period correct.

Following her new husband down the stone corridors, she tried to focus on anything but how different this place was from Rivendell.  Tonight would be her first night as her beloved’s woman and she intended to show him just how much she loved him.  Besides, she had pined for him the entire time he had been on his quest.  Despite her father’s best efforts, her affections for him had only grown; filling her hear to bursting the moment she saw he was safe and whole after all the hardships he had weathered.  It had been all she could do to wait for this night to show him just how much she had missed his presence.

The creak of metal hinges brought her out of her reverie, ethereal, blue eyes looking into those of her husband.  Just thinking of him as such thrilled her to her very bones, making her shudder as the urge to kiss him took over her body.  Full lips parting, the pallid beauty of Rivendell leaned toward the one man that had conquered her heart as he bent toward her; the arm holding the candle stretched out away from her.  With the arrogant smirk she so loved, he was sweeping her into one arm before entering the room they would be sharing for the rest of his short life.

Kicking the door shut, the one known as ‘Strider’ set his cande on a stone table; moving to the fur covered bed.  Laying his bride down carefully, the true king of Arnor and Gondor stood back to allow himself to admire her.  Moonlit skin seemed to glow with its own light while she slowly sat up, her dark hair standing out in sharp contrast against her luminescent skin.  Heavy lids hooded darkened, blue eyes, full lips parting as she took of a pose of a nymph luring a man to his death.  Breathless at the sight of her; Aragorn, son of Arathorn, removed the ceremonial armor he had been given for his wedding.

The light from the fire in the fireplace danced off his tensed arms while he shed his under shirt, revealing the scarred body underneath.  There were many marks of battle over his defined muscles, telling of the numerous fights he had gotten into on his long journey back to the throne.  Being a rogue that had earned quite a reputation, there was likely no number of men that had tried to make their name through his death.  Still, he wore them like the badges that they were; almost seeming proud of them.

Sliding off the bed with otherworldly grace, Arwen floating over to her husband; delicate hands spreading over his hair dusted pecs.  Careful, blunt nails skittered over his skin while she met his gaze carefully.  This close, a spicy, musky scent filled her nose; plucking at ancient instincts her kind had long since buried.  Yet, tonight, she knew they would come in handy.  Reaching up with her right hand, she rested her palm against his cheek while standing up on her tiptoes to brush his lips with hers.  The prickle of his facial hair drew a sigh from her as she instinctually leaned her body into him.

His naked arms wrapped around his woman, his partner; the smell of exoctic flowers overwhelming his senses.  After years of restraining himself, of being able to see but not really touch, feeling her clothed breasts pressing against him was almost enough to drive him over the edge.  As it was, he had to fight to remain gentle; his head tilting while the embrace deepened.  For endless moments, they shared air as their tongues danced; both parties reluctant to put any distance between their bodies.  Finally, Aragorn is the one to pull away; placing a kiss on his beloved’s forehead before spinning her to face the bed.

Placing a hand in her lower back, he gently led her toward the bed; careful to pay attention for any signs of discomfort.  The moment he thought she did not want to continue, he would stop immediately.  Something, it turned out, he didn’t even have to worry about.  Arwen went willingly, sitting on the bed with an expression that only added fuel to the flames growing inside him.  She was a goddess, pale, perfect and making him go to his knees.  Wordlessly, his kisses the tops of her feet in worship; showing her how devoted to her he was.

Watching her lover, her King, the daughter of Elrond reached for him to bring him to her level.  There would be no scraping or groveling for either of them.  They would be equal, both in court and the bedroom.  Cupping his face in her hands, she laid down while pulling gently; eventually getting him to lean over her.  Taking in a ragged breath, Aragorn burrowed into her pale neck before reaching to remove his leggings.  Sighing softly, Arwen kissed his cheek while her right hand slipped one of the straps of her dress off her shoulder.

All of a sudden, it was far too hot and there were far too many clothes between them.  Yet, her husband seemed too distracted to get rid of the clothes covering her.  So, with a fair amount of reluctance, she gave a gentle push to the center of his chest.  As he sat up with confusion on his rugged face, she sat up with him; lowering the top of the dress she had worn for their wedding.  The reverent expression on his features came close to making her giggle.  Finally getting the point, he carefully grabbed the hem of the dress to help her remove it.

Looking upon her naked flesh almost felt tantamount to sin and he had to struggle not to avert his eyes from her out of respect.  Some part of him could not believe someone like her could love someone like him.  Especially when she had men like Legolas to choose from.  Such thoughts reminded him of how lucky he was, of how much he could have lost if things had been just a bit different with Eowyn.  It was only because of his love for Arwen and his age that he had rejected the girl.  Still, he had gone out of his way to be kind despite that.

As he laid over her once more, she wrapped her legs around his waist daringly to hold him close.  Feeling his erection press against her eager womanhood, Arwen let out a soft moan while her hands came up to rest on his muscled back.  Bracing on the mattress, her husband met her eyes before placing his tip at her opening.  Mouthing an unneeded apology, he moved forward; taking her virginity.  Biting her lip against a cry of pain, she leaned into the heat of his body for comfort while he stilled.  After a few moments the pain dulled, prompting her to kiss under his ear to signal him to move.  Taking the hint, Aragorn began a slow rhythm; groaning softly in her ear.

Sighing in response, she arched into her lover; her hands tensing on his upper back.  “Arwen,” growled in her ear as his movements grew quicker, more desperate.  Feeling something tightening inside her, she breathed out his name as she nuzzled into his neck.  Slowly, the feeling built into an inferno; pulsing and curling inside her to form something she had never felt before.  Gasping, she held on for dear life; lights flashing behind her closed eyes.  It felt like she was on the brink of something powerful, only her grip on her husband anchoring her to reality.  Then she was tipping over into a strange, pleasurable oblivion.

Soon after, he was emptying into her; a hot substance filling her womb.  Some part of her hoping she would become pregnant, she reached for her man and began to kiss him while his thrusts slowed and eventually stopped.  Panting, the new King pulled them both onto the bed; wrapping his arms around her while warm lips peppered her face.  “I love you my Queen,” husked out of him as his breathing began to even out.

“As I love you my King,” she murmured, resting her cheek against his chest while she drifted off as well.


End file.
